


yeah, i need to tell you something

by ghostrider



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Highschool AU, Just Cute Stuff, M/M, inspired by the dodgeball skit in the late late show :):):):), short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostrider/pseuds/ghostrider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>liam is the captain of the dodgeball team and its his final game tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah, i need to tell you something

**Author's Note:**

> this was posted on tumblr as a drabble but then someone asked me to post it here as well, so there you go. inspired by liam payne in red shorts playing dodge ball. :) title from carly's 'i really like you'.

It’s almost the end of junior year and he can’t believe what he has accomplished, how things have come together for him. A year ago he wouldn’t have even thought that one day he’d be playing his final game of the Dodgeball Championship, let alone captaining the game himself. There was a time nobody knew who he was, when teachers forgot what his name was, when students passed by him like he didn't even exist. And now, there isn’t a single person on campus who doesn’t idolize him, who doesn't know who he is; Liam Payne, the fucking Captain of the Dodgeball Team. But on top of that, above everything else, what Liam could never have seen coming, is Zayn Malik.  

It had happened somewhere during the middle of junior year, a day after he had won his first game as captain, when during their first period, the teacher introduced a new boy to their class; tall, lanky, a bag carelessly slung over his shoulder, wearing torn and faded jeans, a red button up wide open in the front, revealing a green T-shirt beneath with black block letters on it that spelt something Liam couldn’t make out. He introduced himself as ‘ _Zayn Malik, from Bradford’,_ blinking his eyes, running a hand over his semi shaved head mindlessly as the class greeted him. The way he walked to his seat was different, an air of carelessness yet a hint of vigilance in his steps, like he was aware of people’s eyes on him but refused to acknowledge them. Liam hadn't taken his eyes off the boy until he settled down, but it wasn’t love at first sight or anything like that; it was none of that crap Liam had seen with his sisters in high school movies. It was just a warm feeling in his chest for two minutes, the inability to stop looking at him, only because he had never seen someone like Zayn before.

They first talked during art class. It wasn’t really a ‘talk’ either because despite being Dodgeball Captain and one of the most social student on campus, Liam ran out of words whenever he was around Zayn. Because (1) Zayn was smarter than him, using big words, writing five page papers during literature and (2) he knew if he was going to say something, he was going to make a fool out of himself, coming off as being the dumb frat boy and (3) that would just majorly fuck things up for him. So during art class, on a sunny Thursday, when Zayn had taken a seat beside him, he had spotted a cigarette resting above Zayn’s left ear. He knew if he didn’t say something, the teacher would call Zayn out. And for some reason, even if he didn’t know Zayn, Liam didn’t want that to happen.

So he had said, pointing behind Zayn’s ear, “Hey, mate. You might want to put that inside.”

Had watched the lost expression on Zayn’s face, while Zayn touched his ear and his fingers found the cigarette, “Oh.” Watched as Zayn’s cheeks turned red, his eyelashes fluttering rapidly, gloriously, as he removed the cigarette, sliding it into his pocket, “Thanks.”

That was all. That was their first conversation. Those were the words Liam had thought about for a week, before another game of dodgeball came along to distract him and he shoved all his muddled up thoughts aside to focus on the game.

But the game was over in an hour and Zayn was still there. So he tried to go on avoiding Zayn’s existence because he didn’t like what Zayn did to his heart. Didn’t like how his chest hurt when Zayn was around. Didn’t like how Zayn blinked his eyes, turned red in the face and looked away whenever their eyes met during class. For some reason, he didn’t want Zayn to turn away from him; he wanted him to turn to him, walk to him, walk  _with_  him. But Zayn barely ever talked to anyone, except their art teacher and their literature professor. The only friend he had was Harry Styles, who was only but a bigger mystery to Liam. Wearing lacy shirts, flowery scarves, tight jeans, a cross around his neck, walking all around campus with a hat on his head, and dimples on either side of his cheeks.

Whenever Liam saw him with Zayn in one frame, he always wondered _how?_ How did Zayn; leather jackets and shy eyelashes, became best friends with Harry; cheeky grins and expensive designer clothing. The only thing similar about them was the plethora of tattoos all over their bodies; visible when they rolled up their sleeves or wore shirts hanging low at the neck. Everyone noticed them, because they were literally the only ones with so many tattoos during junior year. Liam sometimes wondered if that was the reason they had become friends in the first place and if he should get himself tattooed all over too if that would get Zayn to talk to him. Because there was nothing else about Harry that even came close to Zayn, but then Liam also didn't know Zayn very well. He knew the shy kid who never met his eyes, the guy who showed up wearing a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt every other day with a cigarette tucked behind his ear, never spoke until called, kept to himself.

So he knew, trying to be friends with Zayn was a lost cause. He knew Zayn didn’t socialize with popular or many people; and he was the exact opposite of who Zayn was anyway. Zayn socialized with boys like Harry, who were handsome as hell and preferred to stay in peace and quiet. On the other hand, Liam's life was dodgeball and everything that came with it; the noise, the hysteria, the partying, the glory. It was better if he stayed away from Zayn to keep himself from facing rejection or disappointment of any type.

Only that fate meddled in and when he bumped hard into Zayn in the school corridor, causing Zayn to actually stumble backwards, lose his balance and fall down on his ass, he knew there was no going back. Reaching his hand out, he leaned in, helping Zayn up, picking up his bag and handing it to him, a string of apologies on his tongue, a drumming in his chest. Heads had turned towards them, snickers going around the student body at Zayn's fall, as Zayn stood in front of him; staring at his feet, blinking rapidly, cheeks redder than Liam had ever seen before, hands trying to find his jean pockets. Probably waiting for Liam to move from in front of him, so that he could walk out without having to look up and face the people chuckling at him for falling down that easily, that hard.

The only problem was that Liam didn’t ever want to move away from in front of him, his heart wanted to shield him from the people who were making him uncomfortable, because in reality, it was maybe Liam who had already fallen that easily, that hard.

“If I ask you to go out for lunch with me, will you say yes?”

Zayn had jerked his head up at him, stilling for a moment, looking at him, eyes around, cheeks still flushed, “What?”

“If I ask you to go out for lunch with me, will you say yes?”

“I-,” he had said, licking his parched lips, “I don’t know, why?”

“I am asking you out, that’s why?” he said, heart growing because of the look of pure astonishment on Zayn’s face.

“No, why? Because I fell down and you are sorry for me?” his voice thick, deeper than any voice he had heard, yet so tiny and uncertain.

“What? No,” he had said, shaking his head rapidly, “No, I just want to take you out. Because I think- I think I like you. I mean I really, _really_ like you.”

“You don’t even know me,” he had said.

“But I want to,” he said, “That is why, will you  _please_  go to lunch with me?”

Zayn had just looked at him, nibbling at his bottom lip, ignoring all the stares he was getting because he was talking to someone who wasn’t Harry Styles.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he had asked, not believing his ears, “Really, you will come?”

“Yes,” Zayn replied, lowering his eyes again, “I think I could really, really like you too.”

Now, Liam has never been someone with a good memory but that moment, that day, he can still recall accurately. Not a single detail missing. Because that day had given him Zayn Malik, and there is no better feeling that he can think of than having Zayn snuggled into his arms, or riding on his back, or pressed against him under cool bed sheets.

Or having Zayn sat beside him, on the dry grass, their backs pressed to a tree trunk, with his right arm going around Zayn’s neck, his right hand resting on Zayn’s shoulder, while Zayn works on his art homework and he chats with Harry, and his own mates; Louis and Niall, who sit in front of them – all five of them forming a tiny circle. Zayn is sketching a feather, detailing it with a charcoal pencil while Harry broods over it, occasionally trying to smudge it to get death glares from Zayn in return. While he discusses with Louis and Niall, about the final game they are playing tonight about which he is both very nervous and very excited. He doesn’t really have to talk to Zayn, just having him beside him works wonders for his mood. And the way there isn’t a speck of space between Zayn and him, half of Zayn’s back pressed against half of his front feels, in one word; calming.

“-we go to Bret’s after winning, he has the best booze!” Louis is saying, “Also lots of rooms in his house to do the dirty!”

Harry makes a face, not moving his eyes from Zayn’s sketch, “You are gross.”

“Well, I would be offended by that but when you’re right, you’re right,” Louis shrugs causing Niall to chuckle and Harry to grin but only slightly.

“Why are you looking miserable, Payno?” Niall asks him then, causing Zayn to pause his sketch and instantly look up at him.

“I am not miserable,” Liam says, shooting a warning look at Niall.

“You look distracted,” Louis adds, not really helping.

“I’m just nervous about the game,” he admits.

“You are going to be fine,” it’s Zayn who says that, voice low and eyes meaningful, a reassuring smile on his face, “You have been practicing since months, there is no need to be nervous. You're always fine.”

“He’s right Payno,” Niall says, “I am sure this school hasn’t seen a captain like you before, we will kill it out there tonight, you’ll see!”

“Thank you, mate,” he says, squeezing Zayn as he does so, “I needed that.”

“There’s something else isn’t it?” Zayn asks though, not buying it, still looking at him, “You've got something else bugging you?”

He looks back at Zayn, deciding between lying and confiding. And then he decides on the latter because he knows Zayn can see right through him, and even though Zayn won’t pressurize him into telling him, he’d still be bothered about Liam all day long.

“Guys, could you leave us here for a second?” he turns to Niall, Louis and Harry.

There are two calls of ‘ _yeah sure’_  as Harry and Niall get up and one reply of  _‘absolutely not’_ as Louis remains on the ground. But Niall and Harry grab his shoulders, threatening to lift him up and drag him away so after a minute of struggling, he reluctantly consents to getting up and following Niall and Harry towards the bench nearby, flashing a middle finger at Liam and Zayn.

“What’s it?” Zayn turns to him completely, letting his sketchbook fall on the grass between them.

He doesn’t know how to ask this, having asked so many times before and being denied. He knows it makes Zayn uncomfortable every time and he has only dated Zayn for like three months, he doesn’t want to ruin anything. But Zayn is looking at him with considerate eyes, filled with love, so he picks up courage and asks, “Please come to tonight’s game? I know you don’t like to, I know you think you’ll not fit there and people will stare at you, but it’s my final game. Please, come?”

A shadow flickers across Zayn’s face, he bites his bottom lip, “Liam, I-”

“I know I am asking a lot from you, I will not force you into this either. But this is the last game Z, it’s big for me. If you’re there, it’ll make me really happy.”

“Would it mean that much to you? Me being there?” Zayn asks him.

“Yeah, yeah it would mean the world.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me before then?”

“Because I know how you feel about crowds, and screaming kids. Also, you have never been to a game before. You didn’t come when we weren’t dating; you have always refused after.”

“Yes, because I had homework and I didn’t know you wanted me there so badly.”

“Obviously I want you there, I do want you there, so much.”

“Then I’ll be there.”

“What, really? You will come?” he asks, hand reaching up to touch the side of Zayn’s face.

“Yes, I would love to.”

He leans in, pecking Zayn on the lips, giving the bottom one a little lick while he's at it, “Thank you so much.”

“Don’t say that, ever,” Zayn replies, colour flushing up to his cheeks like always, as he shyly looks down, retrieving his sketchbook from the ground.

“That’s beautiful by the way,” he says, looking at the monochrome feather Zayn has so effortlessly sketched.

“It’s not really,” Zayn says, frowning at what he has made, “I think I’ll have to start all over again. I am definitely not getting an A on this.”

“What, are you kidding?” he grabs the sketchbook from Zayn, inspects the detailed feather, perfectly shaded, intricately sketched, “This is so accurate, it’s like a real feather on a paper!”

“No, look Harry has even smudged it from here.”

“Okay, you’re paranoid,” he says, not seeing the smudge, only perfect curves, “This was your fifth attempt and I am not letting you start all over again!”

“I have to, this time it’ll be perfect,” Zayn reaches for his sketchbook.

“No, this is perfect, just like the last one was,” he says, “And guess what I am going to do, I am going to get this tattooed right here on my arm, because that is how beautiful it is!”

Zayn’s jaw drops open, “But I made that! Liam, that’s so hideous!”

“It’s not Zayn, it’s perfect! You are perfect, your art is perfect, you just never think it is!”

“Because it isn’t?”

“It _is_.”

“Do you really think so?” Zayn asks, looking lost all of a sudden.

“I know so,” he says, “And you’ll see how perfect this looks up here on my arm.”

Zayn lightens up a bit, “You don’t have to do that really, I believe you. I won’t tear this off. I’ll submit it, I promise.”

“I still want to get this tattooed on here though,” he says, going back to his previous position, handing Zayn the sketchbook back, throwing an arm around Zayn, “Because I love it, and you drew it. It’d be special. Like you.”

And he doesn’t think it’s possible, but Zayn just giggles to himself at that, reddening all over, head still down low, as he leans into Liam again, pressing into him all the way in. And Liam allows it, squeezing his arm around Zayn’s slim figure tightly.

—-

He’s standing in a circle, dressed in red shorts and a white vest with their team’s name printed on it in red block letters. He is discussing attacking techniques with Louis, Niall and three of his other team mates when Niall nudges him with an elbow and then nudges his head towards the tiers. He follows the direction and his heart picks up speed instantly, because Zayn and Harry seem to have just arrived, in the process of sitting down on the top most tiers. There’s a chart paper in Zayn’s hand, rolled up and another in Harry’s but Liam doesn’t care about that. He just watches as Zayn finally takes a seat, wearing his leather jacket, a Hulk shirt underneath and then scans the courtroom, eyes falling on Liam.

He smiles down at him, giving him a little wave of the hand, and a kind of energy fills Liam that definitely wasn’t there before. He smiles widely back at Zayn, before there is a whistle going off and he has to take position. And then suddenly, he’s very self aware.

This is Zayn’s first game, this is the first time he’s ever playing in front of his boyfriend, Zayn’s eyes would be on him. Only on him, and it should calm him but it only makes him nervous. A kind of pressure on him to do good, to win, to not let this be a bad, boring, disappointing game for Zayn. And then there’s another whistle, and the game begins.

There is a lot of back and forth of the ball, every player trying to hit another harder and faster with the ball. He dodges six attacks, the crowd going wild every time, and takes two players down, losing three of his own during the stretch of thirty minutes. All the time wondering, if Zayn is watching, if Zayn is enjoying, if Zayn is proud of him. And with that thought in his mind, he heaves the ball at the only remaining member of the rival team, ball hitting him square in the stomach and he is out.

People scream all around him, as they bag the first half and Louis is hugging him but he’s only looking at Zayn. Who is standing on his feet, mouth open in laughter as he holds up a banner; the batman symbol on it, yellow letters printed in between; “ ** _GO PAYNO!_** ” while Harry jumps up and down beside him, screaming for them, clapping his hands over his head.

It fills his heart with warmth, to see Zayn enjoying like that, doing little jumps, actually enjoying watching him play, and supporting him like that, standing so boldly, flashing Liam's name for everyone to see, in a wild crowd he knows he’s very different from. The second half isn’t really hard to play, Liam takes down five players in just fifteen minutes, Louis taking down the last one. Every time he takes one down, he glances at Zayn, watching him clap harder than ever, a few times Liam even hears Zayn scream his name, thick voice standing out among the cheering.

When they win, the crowd bellows. His mates are on him, hugging, screaming, yelling. There is his coach thumping him on the back; telling him how that was fast, that he didn’t know they would win so easily, that Liam really does have what it takes, it was his best decision to make him captain and Liam's heart swells at the compliment because he has never felt this happy or lauded before.

Then there is a hand on the back of his waist, pressing meaningfully, familiarly and he turns around instantly to meet Zayn’s eyes, proud and eager, “I told you, you’d win. Didn’t I?”

He instantly snakes his arms around Zayn’s waist, pulls him closer, Zayn rests his hands on his bare biceps, looking up at him, “Yeah you did. And it was because of you I played so well, this win, this trophy is for you.”

“I don't need a trophy,” Zayn says, smiling up at him, “I have you, I have already won.”

Lifting himself a bit on his tiptoes, Zayn kisses him right on the lips. Usually, Zayn doesn’t do this, he doesn’t ever kiss him in front of people, so when he does, Liam is taken aback. Almost loses his breath, taking a good few moments to find it back, then presses his lips back with just as meaningfully. And when Zayn pulls back, it feels like he’s in love.

“For a moment there, I thought I was going to let you down,” he says, pressing Zayn a bit more into him, people still hugging each other and screaming words of celebration around them, “By losing this game.”

“Are you kidding? Did you see yourself there in the end, I mean I don’t really know how to comment on sports but that was some real life Barry Allen playing dodgeball using his lightening speed,” Zayn says.

He chuckles, can’t feel the ground beneath him anymore, he’s just floating on air with Zayn, “That was the perfect comment ever.”

“You were perfect,” Zayn squeezes his biceps, “You killed them all in a second! Best thing I have ever seen!”

“Really, you had a fun time?”

“I had the best time, and listen. You could never let me down, okay? Because you bring me up is what you do, it's what you always do,” Zayn cups his face this time, kissing him again, as he pulls Zayn more close, enjoying the feel of his lips, thrilled by the win, blood rushing all around his body, nothing solid beneath his feet.

When he is handed the golden trophy, perched on the shoulders of Niall and Louis, his mates and friends shouting words of praise at him, Harry somewhere in between them chanting their slogan over and over at the top of his lungs, Liam only looks at the beautiful, breathtaking guy standing in the far right corner. Away from the wild crowd, yet clapping enthusiastically for him, wearing an enormous grin of pride. Pride that he feels for Liam, that makes Liam feel a hundred times better about himself.

And he knows that he could win a thousand trophies for a thousand different things but none of those will ever compare to the one reward he already has; Zayn.


End file.
